


A Land Bright and Clear

by busaikko



Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Don't Have to Know Canon, Established Relationship, Horses, John/Cam Thing-a-Thon Challenge, M/M, Meeting the Parents, Minnesota, Riding, Therapeutical Riding, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-15
Updated: 2012-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-29 13:38:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/320499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/busaikko/pseuds/busaikko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One day in the life at the Pegasus Riding Center.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Land Bright and Clear

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bluflamingo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluflamingo/gifts).



> Written for the 2012 John/Cam Thingathon for bluflamingo.  
> Beta by mific  
> The prompt or prompts used: Non-Stargate/real life AU + created/found family
> 
> A/N: I know nothing about horses; if I've screwed up anything horse-related, let me know. Title from the song "Free to Be... You And Me" (sorry, I'm a child of the 70s).

Cam woke up slow, trying to escape the sun that pursued him without mercy across the pillows. He finally gave in and squinted his eyes open when his arm dropped right off the mattress in a miscalculated roll.

"Damnation," Cam muttered, knuckles stinging from a hard hit against the bedside table. No blood, though, so he doubted he'd get any sympathy. He braced himself and turned toward the light, checking what he already knew. Not even six by the clock and John was already up and out, leaving Cam to suffer through sunrise all on his own.

Cam sucked in a breath and threw off the covers and rolled to his feet all at once, as fast as he could. He'd picked up the trick of early rising in the Air Force, but nothing could make him like it. It didn't help that the Minnesota spring brought with it ever-longer days. Crossing the room, Cam found his jeans on a wire hanger hanging off the closet doorknob, when he'd have sworn he left them with the rest of yesterday's clothes tossed over the bathroom door. He stepped into them and grabbed a tee, a flannel shirt to go over it, and John's beat-up leather jacket, just because he could and because there was still a bite in the air, no matter everyone insisted it was warming up.

John had a firm _no boots in the house_ rule, so Cam padded stocking-footed to the back door, collecting a mug of coffee on the way, and pulled on his boots before braving the porch. The farmhouse stood on the other side of the lake from the barn, and Cam would have had a good view of John turning out the horses if not for the stand of fruit trees. Elizabeth Weir had planted them when she left O'Neill's Stargate Ranch to start the Pegasus Riding Center, and John said they were symbolic, even if not very fruitful. Elizabeth was still the owner, but after a bad car accident she'd gone back to teaching and Cam had come over from Stargate to run the place. Temporarily, at first, but here he was now, moved in with John, getting more firmly rooted with each season rolling by. Cam took a couple of bracing gulps of coffee and set the mug down on the railing with a yawn and a wide-armed stretch that made his shoulders pop. As he headed down the drive, first Ronon's pickup, then a tan sedan pulled up in the parking area.

Cam jogged up just in time to get half-clobbered by one of Ronon's single-arm hugs.

"Morning," Ronon said, letting Cam go and waving to the couple from the other car. "Hey, Mrs. Anderson, Mr. Anderson."

Mrs. Anderson told Ronon he was going to catch his death of cold, like she did every morning, and her husband passed around warm muffins. Cam was busy stuffing his face and making noises of agreement as Ronon listed things that needed to be done, when John climbed over the fence and looked longingly at the baked goods.

"Here," Mrs. Anderson said, and handed Cam John's muffin.

"You leaving all the work for me again, Sheppard?" Ronon asked.

"That must be it," John said, and opened his mouth obediently to be fed. He chewed with enthusiasm and gave Mr. Anderson two thumbs up.

Cam let himself get dragged into the morning work in the barn as more staff and volunteers arrived, until he had to beg off to make the first telephone calls of the day and go over the day's schedule with Teyla. As a kid he'd had two dreams, to be a pilot like his dad and to help people with injuries like his dad's get better. After a bad crash ended his Air Force career, Cam went from his own physical therapy into getting certification as a therapist, and then through a complicated friend-of-a-friend network found himself working for Jack O'Neill.

Teyla's journey had been even more serendipitous. She'd arrived as an immigrant: "To this big alien city," she'd told Cam once, shaking her head ruefully over the wide-eyed child she'd been "I didn't speak the language, I'd never had electricity before, or seen snow. But at home I'd kept goats and my pastor brought me to his friend's farm, so I wouldn't feel so lost." She'd shaken her head. "It's been horses for me ever since."

Cam watched Teyla make the last few corrections to the huge whiteboard that listed the day's lessons, and the volunteers, instructors, riders, horse, and tack for each. As she worked, more volunteers arrived; Teyla greeted everyone by name and handed out cups of tea and coffee. When Cam had first met her he'd assumed her preternatural calm came from being laid-back, but now he knew better. Teyla was the most organized person Cam had ever met, and he was a little terrified at how much John was learning from her. At last year's Superbowl party, Teyla's boyfriend had confessed that she gave out housework penalty points, and Cam just knew one day he'd come home to find an ominous chores chart taped up next to the phone.

"You're wool-gathering," Teyla chided, and Cam blinked back from reverie to find her studying him with her eyebrows raised. Then she gestured for him to get up, walking him through the waiting area to the picture window overlooking the large paddock. "Look." She nodded her head toward John, who had his three intermediate riders working their way through an obstacle course in the round arena. "Your parents are happy for you. John couldn't get your house any cleaner without breaking the laws of physics. You don't need to be so nervous."

"John's going to tell them," Cam said abruptly, and grimaced. "Annd... it's not like I like lying by omission, but it's their first trip up to stay at our place, and John's left his sleeping bag over at Ronon's so if things go south I'll still get to visit with them, you know?" He shrugged, and watched John demonstrate how to hold the reins. If anyone who worked at Pegasus could be called a horse whisperer, it'd be Ronon, even though he didn't whisper so much as say, "Hey, horse, c'mon," and somehow make a friend for life. But John had ridden since he was small, and he had an easy patience with the horses that spilled over in his teaching, despite the perfectionist streak that got about a mile wider before shows.

Teyla crossed her arms. "You think it will matter that much to them that John was in jail?"

Cam waggled his hand. "I had a hard time." He'd been a real asshole, truth be told, because John was the first guy Cam'd ever considered dating, now that he could, and then John was telling him he'd been kicked out of the Air Force; he'd disobeyed orders in a combat situation and was lucky he hadn't got everyone in his helicopter killed. Cam had judged John for having fucked-up delusions of being the hero of his own Hollywood action flick, and probably would have ended up hating him if he'd gone back to Stargate at the end of that first year. But O'Neill had taken Cam out drinking to talk about Pegasus' future, and Cam'd been angry enough to break John's confidence. O'Neill told Cam word was John should never have been given those orders, and that John'd have been a front-page hero if the people he'd tried to rescue had survived. "Politics," O'Neill had said, terse and angry.

Getting John to trust him again after that had taken time, as had starting a relationship, moving in together, telling Cam's family and John's friends. Cam would do it all over again in a heartbeart if he had to, of course he would; he was happy in his ridiculously clean house with John. He didn't think anyone else knew John as well as he did; maybe no one ever had.

"I will speak very firmly to your mother if she hurts John," Teyla said, the calmness of the threat making her words even more ominous. Cam'd earned a few of Teyla's lectures when he'd first come to Pegasus; she had a talent for making him want to live up to her expectations and never disappoint her again. "But I don't think she will." She patted Cam's shoulder and flicked her eyebrows up. "You have class, don't you?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Cam took a breath and realized that the tension and worry he'd been feeling earlier had eased. Sometimes, Teyla could work magic.

As Cam got his weekly class for stroke patients through grooming, tacking up, and mounting, he couldn't help glancing over at John and Teyla's group of little kids. Each of them sported a tiny helmet and had a sidewalker on each side to hold them and give support as they practiced starting and stopping and then moved into a game of picking up stuffed animals. The kids were having a great time, and probably didn't even realize that their bodies were strengthening the muscles used for walking and developing balance and coordination. They came for the horses and the satisfaction of accomplishment.

As the lesson ended, Cam watched the way John made a point of thanking each of the sidewalkers and other volunteers as they helped the kids dismount and un-tacked the horses; most of the kids wanted to stick around and brush their horses, or at least keep touching them for a while. John and Teyla spoke with the parents, explaining the goals of the lesson, and then the students got their attendance stickers and waved goodbye, and preparations for the next class started.

John's last rider of the morning was a four-year-old with cerebral palsy who was more than a little in love with her mount, Lantea. Seated on the palomino gelding, the girl did stretching exercises -- pink glittery rings were involved -- and Cam could tell that Teyla was pleased with her progress. When he realized it was time already for his group to head inside and shoot some baskets, Cam realized a little guiltily that his distraction was getting him off schedule... though that was also because his riders were near the end of their three-month program and were now a very social group, even with their different levels of aphasia.

When the lunchtime lull finally hit, Cam headed back up to the house to grab a sandwich, but instead ended up being grabbed just as soon as he had his boots off.

"Where's your work ethic?" he asked John, as soon as John finished kissing him. "Think of the poor horses."

John trailed his mouth down Cam's neck, not biting hard enough to leave marks but hitting every sensitive spot and making Cam's head tip back all on its own. "Yeah, the horses _hate_ having Ronon looking after them. I'll just give you a blowjob IOU and rush right on back."

"Uh-uh," Cam said, and grabbed hold of John's belt with both hands, making John laugh with surprise and then swear under his breath as Cam pulled them together. "Way too late to stop your evil plan now. So I guess we're screwed." John jabbed Cam hard in the side and left his finger there, a silent threat of tickling. "Blowjob, please?" Cam said, and fanned his fingers out over John's hips. "I'll make it good for you, baby."

"You're ridiculous," John drawled, but Cam wasn't going to argue when John was sinking to his knees. He widened his stance, leaned back against the wall and ran his hands over John's hair, and let John do his thing. Hot and dirty, fast because they were on lunch break, and sweet, _God_ , Cam was broken all to pieces by the sweet way John let his eyes slide shut.

Just to be contrary, Cam's orgasm stretched out long in waves that pushed him higher and then settled him gently back on solid ground. He let go of John's hair where he'd grabbed it too hard, petting a bit in apology, and asked, "How did I get so lucky?"

John shrugged with a lazy "Dunno," and he let Cam haul him up to his feet and kiss him hard.

"So you want to take this to the bedroom?" Cam asked, and palmed John's dick through his jeans, rubbing hard, trying to make John squirm. His own knees weren't up to kneeling these days, but Cam liked to think that he overcame that in satisfactory bed-related ways. John, damn him, whipped his hand up and squinted at his watch. "If I make you come in your pants you're going to be changing clothes upstairs anyway," Cam pointed out. "Or mopping the floor."

John muttered something about cleaning the floor with Cam's ass, but yanked Cam's jeans more-or-less back in place and shoved him toward the stairs.

They ended up scarfing down ham sandwiches and nearly being late, and John's hair would have tipped everyone off except he always had bed-head.

"Anyone asks," Cam told John, voice low and sly, "you just tell them we were going over spreadsheets."

John punched him hard in the arm for that, but Cam was feeling pretty smug until he checked his phone before his next class and found a text message from his cousin Marissa saying that she'd had a lovely stop-over visit with his parents and they'd left her place after an early lunch. Cam figured that meant they were about three hours out, and tried to remember if Marissa was on the side of the family who felt Cam's lifestyle choices shouldn't be discussed in front of children. Then he kicked himself mentally for even worrying about it, and sent back a quick _thanks John &I will keep an eye out :) CM_

Ronon had once explained that liberal use of emoticons was the key to successful virtual communication, and so far -- knock on wood -- that was working just fine for Cam.

The afternoon went by whirlwind fast, with kids coming in after school and volunteers after work, Teyla heading home to her family, and Jennifer Keller swinging by to float Altera's teeth and check Doranda for any residual mandibular joint problems. Cam didn't have a minute to himself until the last turnout finished, and Ronon tried to rope him into helping the evening volunteers get the horses fed and watered.

"My folks are driving in," Cam said, by way of excuse, and Ronon looked at him like Cam had been hit with the stupid stick.

"They got here like an hour ago," Ronon said, and some of Cam's nerves must have shown because Ronon clapped him on the back with a grin. "Chill. John's up at the house. They like him, right?"

"Used to." Cam smiled like it was a joke. "So I'm going to leave you in charge for a bit."

Ronon's grin widened. "I'm already in charge." He flipped his eyebrows up. "Tell John to get his ass back down here sometime before I head out, okay?"

"Sure thing," Cam said. He considered inviting Ronon over for dinner, thought better of the idea, and settled on giving him a half-wave goodbye over his shoulder. He did not look back to see if Ronon was still laughing at him. He kind of assumed that was a given.

Cam left his boots next to his mother's inside the front door and followed the sounds of activity and the smell of roasting chicken down the hall to the kitchen. His mother had the kettle on and was opening drawers, probably in search of tea, and his father was painstakingly choosing mugs from the collection on the windowsill, all cartoon characters and bad jokes. The dirty mug Cam had left on the porch sat in the sink, like a reproach.

"Hey, there," Cam said awkwardly, and they both turned toward him like finally, a guide to the kitchen had arrived. Cam hugged his mom, found the teabags, hugged his dad, realized he'd left the gay pride mugs out by accident, fielded one of those heavy fatherly stares that kind of suggested he was in for a long serious talk, and asked, "How was your drive? You all tired out? Where's John?"

"Upstairs," his dad said, to which his mom added helpfully, "Guest towels. Do you have milk?"

Cam opened the refrigerator to find that they had both skim and 2% from the co-op, and took both bottles out. He didn't say that the linen closet was downstairs just off the laundry and the towels were already set out on top of the guest room dresser, but his mother probably knew all that.

"I should maybe," Cam said, and nodded his head back to the stairs. "Sugar?"

His dad shook his head, still with that significant look in his eyes. "Your mother's on a health thing again. We already warned John about salt." He took a breath, and Cam's mom announced she'd go help John, Cam should just relax. Cam figured it would be overly theatrical to shout _no, don't leave me alone_ , but he thought it.

"Sit down," Cam said. "I'll do the tea." The kettle didn't whistle after being dropped one too many times, but he could tell it was boiling by the steam. He brought the mugs over to the table, poured hot water over the teabags, and sat down kitty-corner to his dad. "I take it John talked with you."

"I think he thought Wendy and I were going to kick him out."

Cam was starting to suspect the look he was getting was an accusation. "I told him it'd be okay," he protested, but he sounded like he didn't believe his own words, and he leaned back in his chair in frustration. "He hasn't heard from his family for years, and I think the last thing he wants is to be the reason you guys give up on me." Cam picked up his tea blindly, took a swallow, and burned his tongue. His father handed him the milk wordlessly. "I feel like I'm in trouble, here."

"Nah," his dad said easily. "You're a good kid who screws up sometimes. So's John." He gave Cam a narrow-eyed once-over. "If you've got a dictionary around here somewhere, son, go bring it here and I'll underline _unconditional_ for you."

"We're working on that," Cam said, and blew out a breath and felt his shoulders settle down. He added some milk and tried his tea again. His tongue still stung, but the warmth went all through him. "What's mom up to?"

His dad shrugged. "Mothering. And probably telling John all about her wild summer of '69, and possibly offering to make curtains. Ours not to wonder why. You need any more paternal guidance before you go rescue your boy?"

Cam grinned, face probably goofy-looking with the release of tension. "Hit me."

His dad wrapped his hands around his mug. "Life isn't fair. Good people can make bad mistakes and not get punished, or do the right thing and accept the consequences. And no matter what the world thinks, in the end you wake up every morning and have to live with the person you are." The corner of his mouth twitched, like a smile trying to break free.

Cam had to take a minute to absorb this, feeling reprimanded and absolved all at once. His dad wasn't one to sugar-coat the truth. "Yeah," he said, and shoved to his feet. "Okay." He headed into the hall to shout up the stairs, "Tea's getting cold."

"You know better than to bellow in the house," his mom said, appearing at the top of the stairs. She padded down, John shadowing her, and gave Cam another hug as she passed. "John says I can repaint your bathroom," she added, and shut the kitchen door pointedly behind her.

"You okay?" Cam asked. John had his hands shoved into his pockets and a closed look on his face.

"I forgot how much your family's like being run over by a truck," John said, and smiled, kind of. He was keeping his voice low, but he sounded like he'd been crying. Cam had never seen John cry; he had a horrible vision in his head of his mother rocking John like a baby and drying his face with Kleenex. "I think I embarrassed myself."

"Nah," Cam said, and took a step forward to close the gap between them, tossing his arm across John's shoulders and leaning in. "You only got my mom discussing paint, I got my dad lecturing me on love and responsibility and some other stuff that's still percolating in my brain."

John snorted and shifted, like he was trying to escape. "I'm going to head down and help Ronon close up the barn."

"Drink your tea first," Cam said, and leaned in to press a light kiss at the corner of John's mouth. "It's nice and cold now, so you won't scald your tongue like I did." He kissed John again, and this time John kissed back. "Come on," and he tugged one of John's hands free and laced their fingers together. "You're part of the family, they love you, there's a real good chance you could get my mom to bake you _pie_."

"Fine," John said, and used his other hand to scrub his face quickly. "One cup of tea."

Cam tugged and John came with him, untangling himself and giving Cam an eye-roll. "Deal," Cam said, and pushed the door open. The room was bright and warm, and Cam's mother was opening cabinet doors, collecting ingredients to line up along the countertop. John bypassed his tea and went straight into fetching the flour and a mixing bowl. Cam put the kettle on again, and his father looked suspiciously like he wanted to say _told you so_ but instead turned to John and said he'd heard John trained the horses himself.

"Ronon and I do," John said, and magically produced an enormous block of unsalted butter and a huge Ziploc bag of blueberries from the freezer. "You should come down with me and meet the horses."

"Just let me get this pie in the oven," Cam's mom said, half-turning away from her dry ingredients to include both John and Cam in her bright look. "And we'll all go together."

"Sounds like a plan," John said, looking like he'd just realized what it was going to mean having Cam's folks around for a couple of weeks. _Ha,_ Cam thought. _There's no escaping the Mitchells._ And he had to cross to John to steal a handful of blueberries, and a kiss while he was at it.

the end


End file.
